


Taking Chances

by flugantamuso



Category: His Dark Materials - Pullman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirjava jumped up in Will's lap, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly through her fur, looking distant. "I've been asking my mother about my father."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Chances

She hadn't seen him in two years, but he hadn't changed. Hair a little bit longer, muscles a little bit more pronounced, but he still exuded a quiet strength, and his eyes were still sad.

For the first few years they'd stuck close, helping each other. Mary had dealt with the beaurocracy, and enjoyed watching him slowly lose the automatic fear that had been his first instinct.

He was still wary. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, and the pose of the cat at his feet, the cat that few others in his world could see. But it fitted him better than it had the boy she'd first met in another world, a boy overloaded with responsibilities.

He still lived with his mother, but she was a far cry from the trembling woman that she had been, eyes darting every which way. Mary suspected that she would never be self-sufficient, but she was happy. Last year, while Will spent a few months in America, she had joined Mary in Tanna, and the two women had spent many happy hours discussing Mary's new baby: anthropology.

She could talk about the same thing with Will, but their conversations always seemed to transform into amicable arguments about dark matter. They'd been having a very long email conversation about different methods of communication. The method that Lyra had taught her had proved ineffective since they'd come back, but they both had new ideas for it. At any other time they would already be talking about that, but Mary thought that Will had something else on his mind.

She went over to hug him and had to reach up. He'd grown. He smiled at her and they sat down. With his long sleeved t-shirt, frayed jeans and intense expression he looked like a serious young college student, and to passerbyers this probably looked like a meeting between a student and his professor to discuss term papers. She didn't mind playing that role, but their relationship was more complicated than that, comfortable enough that the ensuing silence was comfortable. He probably noticed the gray in her hair, finally visible after she'd stopped dying it last year. There was little point in vanity on Tanna.

"So what have you been up to?" she prompted when it didn't look like he was going to say anything.

He smiled, but it looked distracted. "Oh, this and that." A genuine smile then, "I know what you've been up to, though," he teased.

She laughed. Their correspondence kept him well-informed about her activities, but he was referring to the magazine articles that had been written about her. It was ironic that no attention had ever been paid to her work in the field of physics, where she'd made some truly important discoveries. Now she was in anthropology, doing nothing new or unusual, and the press couldn't get enough of her.

In a way, her current studies were related to her previous one, because the Tanna people's bone structure was similar to some very ancient skeletons with very little dust. There wasn't much dust around the Tanna people either, at least, not as much as there were around most other human beings. That was what she'd wanted to learn more about when she started studying them, but what she'd ended up enjoying was the experience of immersing herself in their culture and finding out what was important to them and why.

"I hear that you're to be congratulated. Oxford is a fine school, Will, and I'm proud of you."

Again, that distracted smile. "Yes, I'm looking forward to starting."

"But something is bothering you, isn't it? Come on, Will. I know that you haven't seen me in a while, but you can tell me."

Kirjava jumped up in Will's lap, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly through her fur, looking distant. "I've been asking my mother about my father."

Mary kept quiet, waiting for more.

"I mean, I used to be curious about what he'd done, where he was, and why he'd gone, all that kind of stuff, and she wouldn't tell me. Now I'm curious about how they met, what he liked and didn't like, more personal things. She wouldn't tell me those things before either, but maybe that's just because I wasn't asking the right questions. And now...she's willing to tell me more and more every year. Like last week she told me that he hated asparagus." He shook his head. "Asparagus! I don't know why that matters, but it does."

Mary leaned forward. "Will, why this sudden interest in your father? I mean, I know that you've always been interested, but how do you know the questions to ask now?"

There was a long silence, and Mary could tell by the way that Will's lips moved that he was chewing the inside of his cheek, maybe trying to decide what to tell her. She was patient. He would tell her eventually. After all, it was the reason that he had asked her to come.

Will was not a very social person, even with those he was closest to. The first year after they'd returned, back when they'd all been living together, he'd been astonished that she'd become so involved in Christmas preparations. She'd tried to take him to a party with adverse results. The very spirit of the holiday, of mankind sharing a common bond, seemed to be absent from him. She'd thought that it was because of his strange childhood, something that would wear off, but gradually it became clear that it was an ingrained part of his personality.

Most people have a certain amount of trust in their fellow human beings. It's why they're shocked when a murder is committed, outraged at little acts of selfishness. Even those who lack that trust for some reason or other are usually just indifferent. Will had an automatic distrust in everyone, and even with his mother, to whom he was fiercely loyal, he was reserved.

It was part of the reason why she hadn't seen him for so long, because while Will was happy to see her every time she visited, it would never have occurred to him to reach out himself, at least not unless he needed something, or needed to tell her something.

Finally he sighed, and, elbows on the table, rubbed his eyes with his hands. "I met a girl."

She smiled. "That's good, I'm glad that you're not in complete seclusion, Will."

He drew in a frustrated breath. "You know that's not what I mean."

"No." She cleared her throat. "Will, I'm glad that you've met someone who means something to you, but obviously you're not comfortable about it. Why is that?"

"My father left my mother. Oh, I know that he didn't mean to, that he couldn't help it, but he was involved in the same kind of research that I'm going to be involved in, and if there's the slightest chance..." he shook his head. "No, it's not even about that, not really. What if I have to leave one day, What if I want to?"

Unspoken between them lay the possibility that Will might one day find his way into Lyra's world.

"I don't want to have to make that choice, because I know what I'd choose."

"So in other words you don't think that you're being fair to this girl that you met. You're going to have to tell me her name eventually."

He smiled faintly. "Her name is Angelia, and no, I don't think that it would be fair to her."

"Why not ask her about it."

His smile vanished. "You know that we can't tell any of them about it."

And this was the crux of the matter. Will and Mary had agreed years ago, when they'd first come back, that no one but Will's mother could be trusted with their secret. Mary was now wondering how much of that agreement had been inspired by natural caution, and how much by Will's mistrust. The agreement had been logical, but she wasn't certain that the motivation behind it had been healthy, at least not for Will.

"Will, there's going to come a time when you'll have to tell someone. You can't have a real relationship with someone if you're keeping secrets of that magnitude, ones that affect your life so deeply, and you're going to need people, Will, need them to keep you sane. Your mother won't be here forever. I won't be here forever, and I don't want you to be alone just because you never learned to trust anyone else."

Will was tense, leaning forward on his elbows. "And if she freaks out? Tells someone else? It's not just me I'd be risking here, Mary. It's my mother, and it's you."

She leaned back to ease the tension, but it was a serious question, and it deserved a serious response. As much as she'd love to tell Will that he needed to trust people more, there were people who would make his life difficult if they discovered his secret. "I suppose you have to ask yourself if she's the kind of person who can keep her friends' secrets. Is she?"

"I think so, but how can I be sure?"

"Not to sound trite, but at some point you have to take a chance, trust in the best."

He looked troubled, but then he had trust issues, and he had never believed in taking chances. It was a lot to ask, but she was only the facilitator. He was the one doing the asking.

There were ways to make the decision easier on him, though, and she'd like to meet the girl before Will made any life-altering decisions. "Suppose we all go out to eat together, you, me, your mother and Angelia. Your mother does know about Angelia, doesn't she?"

A rueful smile filled Will's face. "Oh yes. In fact, when we get together I usually get ignored while they talk."

That was a good sign. Mary's respect for Angelia went up a bit. "I'll be in town for a few weeks. Shall we say next Saturday? And why don't you ask Angelia to pick the resaurant."

Will nodded slowly. "That'll probably work. We don't start school for a few weeks."

"She's a student? Is she going to Oxford too?"

"Yes, but she's from South Africa. She's only been in Britain for a few months. There's this story she tells about her home town..."

Mary listened, and thought about Alfredo, and Lyra, and chances taken, and she reached up to pet the bright bird on her shoulder. Across the street a tourist was puzzled at the sight of a nice looking older lady slowly moving her hand over the air above her shoulder.


End file.
